


What Angels See

by ObsessedChick



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Broken Dean Winchester, Consensual Non-Consent, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Dubious Consent, Knifeplay, M/M, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Soulless Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23219620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsessedChick/pseuds/ObsessedChick
Summary: Casitel has been getting pleas of help from Dean, often times finding him bloodied and hurt. Dean won't tell him where the injuries came from, and one day, Castiel sees for himself.This is graphic, please take in the tags before you read.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	What Angels See

The first time Castiel saw the destruction that was laid against the man, he nearly lost control. Fire had burned from a place unawakened inside his chest when the being gasped his name. 

"Cas," he choked, "I need you to heal me." 

And Castiel did. The man didn't let up when Castiel questioned him, demanded answers, and even went as far as threatening him.

He just smiled and said, "He's finally giving me what I need, Cas." 

So he followed the pair of hunters for weeks, watching the olders every move, waiting to see if he'd slip up, if he'd give any indication as to what he meant that night. The only thing he found was their not so secret pastime of ending in each other's beds, which didn't surprise him considering their souls were connected, he expected it. 

Could a soul be connected if it wasn't in the body, he mused to himself, watching the younger brother sort through clothes in the laundry mat. Dean was back at the motel, having sprained ankle induced bedrest. 

"You could try to help me," Sam said out loud, causing the angel to think harder. His tone was irritated and he felt that coming off of him but there was nothing else. His emotions, his needs were right there, nothing below.

With Dean he sensed the layers and layers of emotion, often having to peel back most just to get a straight answer from the man. This being was unusual to him, so unlike the boy he met years ago who stumbled over his words when they met. He wondered what lay beneath that surface. If there was anything really there. For all he knew that was it. He said nothing more, just left the irritated man to do their chores. 

The second time was even more startling, but what shocked him even more was that this wasn't the last time. It seemed to never end, not having a pattern or a tell to track. It came and went at inconsistent times and places, he'd feel Dean's cries for his help and he'd show up, heal the bloody man who could only smile up at him, laughing to himself like he was drunk on the taste of his own blood. He never said anything more to Castiel, just looked into his eyes and the pain underneath shown like the sun. As did the sick satisfaction when he would ask not to be healed all the way. Castiel would never heal him all the way, fearing what he would do if left without his source of happiness. 

The last time it happened he witnessed the whole thing and he felt a hurt he's never felt before. He wasn't sure what prompted him to stop by the motel room, the thoughts leaving the second the imagery burned itself into his heart. 

Dean lay on the floor, sobbing and pleading as Sam straddled his hips. He pushed Sam's hands away, slipping against the blood that sprang from the knife wounds on his palms. He yelped when Sam's fist met his cheekbone, harsh cracking noise filling the room. 

For a long moment Dean was stunned, seconds passed as Sam worked off his clothes, tearing into him as more skin was presented. More punches leading more sickening cracks. From his place in the dark corner he felt what Dean felt, relief, love, pain. His brother brutalized him and the sickening adoration was still there. 

"Tell him to leave," Sam grunted as he pulled him up into a dripping red kiss. "You don't need him yet, Dean." 

"Cas," Dean choked, the same hollow way he did the first time, "Get out." 

Even if he could move he wouldn't have left, he watched on in a twisted fascination as Sam didn't stop. Even as he tried to reach out to the soulless being he felt nothing. Nothing but the unrelenting love Dean held in his heart. No wonder he has never seen that before, he never felt anyone enjoy this type of torture. Thousands of years and he's never felt this, it scared him, more than Zachariah or Lucifer, this was too human, too awful. 

Sam pulled Dean back, pushing down his pants and pushing into him. The scream the smaller man let out was unreal, Cas was sure he's never heard anyone like that before. Sam didn't seem to care, just kept using the smaller man, who sobbed and begged him to stop. 

"Sam," he commanded, making Dean flinch and the windows rumble, "he said stop."

"We both know he doesn't mean it, " Sam...not Sam, this soulless monster laughed. "He loves this." 

Cas couldn't reply, at that moment Sam grabbed the blade and dragged it across Dean's already bloodied chest. Screams tore through the motel room as it only went deeper. 

"Fuck, he's tight when I do that." It looked at Cas and disgust filled him as he saw joy flow from those eyes. 

Dean's voice came out in hoarse gasps, barely audible over the laughing as he kept trying to push him off. 

"Since you're here already." Sam chuckled to himself, suddenly thrusting harder. Before Cas could say anything else Dean looked over to him, eyes blank, smiling a bloodied smile, seconds before the knife sliced into Dean's neck.

The noise wasn't the thing that surprised him, it wasn't the appearance of blood or the face the thing came loudly. None of that was what made him move against his will, it was Dean's smile that stayed in place. It was the face he was making seconds before Cas could hear his heartbeat slow. The face of a man satisfied to die in the most brutal way possible. 

He tried to grab the man, pawed at him but the blood only made it harder, slipping against the torn skin. Sam moved off of him, watching for a moment as cum and blood rushed out of his abused hole. He didn't acknowledge the angel who was suddenly shaking the limp body against his, he only zipped up his pants and left the room, grabbing the keys on his way out, smirking to himself.

"Dean," He whispered, feeling the wounds begin to close up, "Dean, wake up." 

"Thank you, Cas," He coughed, finally opening his eyes. Blood splattered against the Angel's face, he felt it seeping in through his layers but he was unsure what to do. Dean pushed away, still naked but unbroken. Castiel healed him fully and for a second he looked lost. 

Neither of them spoke when Dean sat up, dressing and completely ignoring the other man in the room as he did so. 

"We found a way to get his soul back," Dean spoke suddenly. "We're trying it soon. He doesn't know."

A heavy weight formed somewhere in Castiel's being. He knew what Dean was doing now, he wanted to be hurt. He wasn't sure why, maybe he blamed himself for what happened to Sam. Either way, this thing that looked like his brother was willing to help and if Dean could pretend they were normal, he was getting what he thought he deserved. 

"Sorry for your coat." Dean mumbled then walked out the door. Cas could see a glimpse of Sam, who leaned against the Impala, smilingly wickedly as Dean got in without a word.

**Author's Note:**

> So, any comments are appreciated if you'd like, if not I hope you enjoyed the fic! Sorry for any mistakes, I usually write and post before I can talk myself out of it. It'll probably be fixed later. Anyway, thank you for reading!


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